


Ancestor

by KaiosReins



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-07 18:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13440198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiosReins/pseuds/KaiosReins
Summary: Not everyone welcomed the Traveler's light. Not everyone moved forward with technological advancements. And not everyone survived the coldest winter that fell when the Darkness arrived - but stories will always live on.





	1. Cold Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I'll keep adding tags as I go along. Comments and feedback always greatly appreciated.

I lay here in this coldness, knowing that it's the last thing I'll ever feel. I don't know how I know, but I do. That's just how it is, isn't it? Sometimes there's just things you know, and you have no proof to support those ideas, but you also don't need it.

Because you just _know_.

Something begins to encroach on my mind, some sort of... sensation. I frown with muscles I forgot I had, as the sound slowly comes into focus.

_"Should I just keep talking until you get up? I can be that annoying, y'know,"_

Get... up? I didn't even realise I was laying down, but my brain has barely processed this thought before I realise that I am, in fact, laying down - on something soft and cold and damp. My sense of hearing has fully returned, and now my sense of touch is returning. My brain is slowly ticking over, trying to recall whatever it was that led to this new event, and these conditions of my waking, but all it can come up with is the endless, unforgiving cold.

_"Eyes up, Guardian!"_

My eyes fly open, and pain assaults me immediately at the sudden brilliance. I close my eyes again, stars bursting in the sudden darkness, but the pain in my head that has suddenly arrived remains, stabbing sharply at a point just behind my eyes. I feel muscles stretching, and a low moan comes from my own mouth, the sound gravelly as my voice cracks from disuse.

_"Well, you're definitely not a morning person,"_

I begin to cough, my entire body convulsing, and roll over to cough up some fluid. Bile; it's just bile. I open my eyes to see the spatter of colour on a bright white ground.

The cold, the damp - it's snow.

"There you are!" The voice reaches my ears again, and I squint as I lift my head, looking up at... What the hell is that? That can't be the thing talking, can it?

"You've been dead for a _long_ time," it tells me, "So you're gonna see a lot of things you don't understand. Actually, you probably don't understand even now, but that's okay - I can fill you in!"

Yep. This weird, spiky thing is talking. I stare at it against the pale blue sky, taking in everything about it. It's floating, hovering a little off the ground, and has a small light in its centre that... I guess that's its eye? I don't know.

But it said I'm dead, apparently. Okay, that explains the cold. Wait, does it? A wry thought crosses my mind as I look around, squinting against the light. _Hell must have frozen over,_ the thought says. I look back at the... well, the Thing, before looking down at myself, at these things attached to my arms - hands, I remember. They look so strange with the long, jointed... fingers.

"Well first of all, I should probably explain myself," the Thing tells me, and I look up at it. "I'm a ghost. _Your_ ghost, now. I found you out here, buried under, well, a _lot_ of snow, but that wasn't an issue. Oh! That reminds me!"

It turns away and makes a soft noise, before a large pile of snow begins to appear out of nowhere. I stare at it, then at the Thing, my voice finally returning.

"How do you do that?" I ask. I notice my voice has a similar pitch to the Thing's, but a different tone.

"Oh, I have some inventory space, and you were buried underneath all of that. I can't exactly dig, obviously - so I stored it!"

Happy. That's the word that comes to mind to describe how she sounds. No, more than that - excited? I consider the word for a moment, as she flies around me. Yes, excited fits.

"You're on the slope of a mountain," she explains. I'm not sure why I've decided it is female, or when I remembered there's such a thing as females, but I know I'm one, and her voice makes her sound like one as well. "We're far to the north of the Last Safe City. Actually, we're... pretty far from anything out here. The nearest major settlement is a long way from here, but I found a small settlement not too far from here that we can go to, where you can recollect yourself. I'd contact the Tower and ask for a jumpship, but I don't want to be a bother, and being reanimated is confusing enough without having to interact with a lot of people immediately, too."

"You talk a lot," I tell the Thing. Boots, I should check those. They're still laced up tightly, and the rest of my skin-- no, wait, clothes. They're called clothes, and aside from being damp, they're intact. I think. I don't really have a precedent for what clothes are meant to feel like, really. I don't know much of anything, I guess.

"We should get moving," the Thing - Ghost? Is that what it called itself? - tells me, flying about me again, "Hold still. You're sick."

"Fully sick, bro," I reply without even thinking. It's such an odd phrase, but I can't think where it came from or why I said it.

The Ghost shines some light at me, and I cover my eyes. "Why does the brightness hurt?" I demand, squinting as it finishes shining the light at me. The Ghost makes a weird sound.

"You appear to be slightly photophobic. I'll see what I can do about that once we find shelter - there's a drop in atmosphere pressure that suggests a storm is on the way, and I can move snow but ice is a lot harder. Come on!"

It flies off ahead of me, leading the way down a steep slope dotted with trees. I struggle to my feet, muscles aching as I figure out how to make my legs follow the Ghost. I stumble a few times, and fall in the snow, but it realises I'm struggling and flies back over to me, hovering near my head as I pull myself up again.

"You'll get used to it," she tells me, "Come on! We should get a move on!"

I follow it down the slope, legs eventually figuring out how to function, and we make it into the cover of a thick stand of trees. With such thick branches overhead, it's much darker here, and I don't have to squint to see. My head is still pounding, but I don't know how to fix that. I can hear birds somewhere close by, and when the Ghost starts to say something I wave at it to stay quiet. You don't ever disturb the forest unless you're prepared to fight whatever lurks there.

I briefly wonder where that bit of wisdom came from, but brush it away. The snow is thinner underfoot here, which makes it easier to move, and once my legs figure out what to do, we cover ground faster. Something in me seems to already know which way to go, and the Ghost stays silent as we move together. I'm too busy figuring out different things about myself to pay much attention if it did start talking, anyway.

I find a long, sharp knife strapped to my left thigh, and two items are slung on thick cords across my back - an oddly-shaped piece of wood that flexes under pressure, with a tight string connecting the two ends, and a closed pouch containing about ten more pieces of wood, long and thin and dead straight, tipped with metal points at one end and feathery tails at the other.

"This is the settlement," the Ghost tells me as we pass a low stone wall. Larger structures, large enough to enter and move around inside of, are dotted among the trees. Most of them are made of wood but some are made with stones carved into large, thick blocks. All of them look like they've fallen into disrepair, and as my legs carry me past the first one the Ghost points out, I stare at the ruins around me. There was a life here. A people. A civilisation. Where did it go?

I ask this question to the Ghost, who is now following me as I let my legs carry me about, leading us to a small house closer to the centre of the... city? Town? Settlement seems to be the best fit.

"Humanity was almost completely wiped out during the Collapse," she explains, "Anyone living too far from the Traveler's light... they stood no chance."

"Is that what happened to me?" I ask, "Why I'm dead?"

"Oh, no! With you I'm sure it was all that snow you were buried under. It would have been enough to suffocate you, if the cold hadn't killed you first."

I stop in front of one of the buildings, staring at the door that is hanging off the hinges. It's one of the stone buidlings, but inside I can see at least one of the walls is covered in wooden... planks? Panels. Wooden panels. I push the door aside gently, and it creaks loudly, the sound enough to make me feel anxious. I stop just inside, feeling my skin pimpling. Something within this structure resonates within me, but I can't figure out exactly what or why.

"You should make yourself comfortable," the Ghost tells me as she flies into the room, "That storm is almost here. I hope you know how to light a fire!"

I move more slowly, taking in all the details of the room. It seems familiar, but... not, all at the same time. Three doors lead off from the main, larger space, one of the doors closed, but the other two open. I move into one of the rooms and my foot connects with something on the floor, sending it spinning across the dusty boards. The Ghost appears to double as a light, shining her... Well, her light at the object. I pick it up, running a hand over the strangely thin material, pulling it open and turning the sheets of... paper. It's a book, and I don't know how I understand these markings on it, but I do.

_The Daughters of Artemis_

"Are you going to read that? I thought you might want to try and warm yourself, first."

"I'm dead. Staying warm isn't the most important thing," I reply, looking at one of the images. A young girl with short hair, a strange dress-like outfit swirling around her, holds an object identical to the one on my back, with one of the pointed sticks held with it. Taking aim. She's taking aim, probably at the deer in the corner of the image. Another image depicts a similarly-aged girl with a long knife, holding it as she faces a snarling four-legged creature. Wolf.

"But you're not dead!" the Ghost says, snapping me out of my fascination with the book, "You were, for a long time, but now you're alive! I revived you!"

"You what?" I ask, mind swirling. The Ghost makes a strange sound, and moves closer to me.

"You _were_ dead," she says, "My job is to find the dead, specifically one, and bring them back to life. So you _were_ dead, but not any more. Does that make sense?"

I think about it for a few moments, then slowly nod. It only answers one question, though - and spawns about twenty more. But right now, I'm still figuring out my surroundings, so I decide to stay quiet.

"Okay, so now we've cleared that up," she floats away, towards a recess in the wall surrounded by stone. Fireplace. "I think you should light a fire, to keep yourself warm. What do you think?"

I keep the book close by as I find some loose pieces of wood in an old box beside the fireplace, and it takes a few attempts with a box of matches, but I get a fire going and sit beside it. I can see through the window as the world outside darkens. Nightfall. The wind also increases, and I eventually shut the front door and use the flames to light several wall-mounted candles about the main room. With my photophobia, the light looks far brighter than the Ghost claims it to be, and I busy myself by tidying up a bit. I don't know why I do this - I just feel an urge to make this place look at least somewhat presentable.

"It's not as though you'll get visitors out here," the Ghost tells me as I sweep some of the debris from the floor into the fire, "I mean, I haven't even seen Fallen out this far!"

"Is it so bad that I'd like my surroundings to be aesthetically pleasing?" I demand, "Besides, you don't know if there's anything else living out here - something might have escaped your godly notice, your highness,"

"Sure. Whatever you reckon."

I drag one of the armchairs over to beside the fire, and slump into the chair, dust appearing around me as the fabric and stuffing is disturbed after, well, presumably a few hundred years. While I've been tidying up, the Ghost explained a lot about things that changed, but I can't even recall life of the Golden Age.

"Probably because you lived beyond the technology of the age," she tells me, "A survivalist, I believe they were called. Many believed that the world as we knew it would collapse, and they believed isolation and learning basic survival skills would help them survive almost any sort of collapse."

"Didn't really work, though, did it?" I gesture at the house we've taken up temporary residence in, "Whoever lived here died out. Everyone from this settlement died out. Hell, even I died."

"You died before the Collapse ever happened," the Ghost reassures me. I shrug, and turn my attention to the book I found when we entered. The Daughters of Artemis. "So? Are you going to read that, or just hold onto it?"

"If there's nothing else you need to explain to me, I'll probably settle for reading," I reply, looking over the book again. It looks more like the sort of book a parent would read to a child to help them fall asleep, and while tidying up I noticed the second of the two rooms had a single bed in it and other accessories that suggested a young girl had lived there.

"Oh, I have plenty more to explain, but nothing that is essential knowledge at this stage," the Ghost replies, "Go ahead! Read your book and relax a little."

I settle back in the chair, and begin to read, the wind howling outside while the fire continues to warm the small space. I occasionally get up and add another log to the fire, but for the most part, it is quiet. Peaceful. It's a shame we can't stay - this place feels like home.


	2. Journeying

The storm we encounter on the first night isn't the last, but according to the Ghost it is certainly the worst.

Before leaving our small shelter the following morning, I take an empty bag from beneath the large double bed in the first of the two rooms, and fill it with whatever useful items I find about the premises - knives, a pair of flint stones, and a couple of items that for some reason, resonate with me.

The Ghost mutters at me constantly about how we're wasting time, but I ignore her for the most part.

My body seems to have figured out all of its movements, and we travel at a much faster pace than yesterday, though staying in the forest since my eyes seem to be just as sensitive to light as they were when I first woke up.

As we travel, the Ghost explains a lot more about the Golden Age, the Traveler, and the modern world. It sounds almost surreal, but many things seem to strike a cord with me, particularly the parts regarding technological advancement.

"Since when do computers and machines have personalities?" I ask her after a long while of walking in silence, "Or gender, for that matter,"

"Since the Golden Age," she replies, "Did you hear nothing I just said about the Exos?"

"I was referring more to you," I respond, "You're mostly machine, right? Tech. You have a feminine voice, and you convey emotion pretty easily with not only your voice but also your actions. Since when was that a thing? Wait--" I hesitate, "Are you an Exo as well?"

"No! I'm a spark of the Traveler's Light, given a shell so that I can travel about as more than just a simple spark on the winds."

"So you're a spark," I surmise, "Sparks come from glitches. Machines aren't meant to have personalities. Which makes you a Glitch. So I'm gonna call you Glitch,"

"What?"

"I don't know, I don't like calling you "Ghost" all the time," I remark, "It's very... impersonal. Plus, it doesn't suit you. Ghosts are spirits left behind when their bodies decay. You have a body - well, a form. So Ghost just doesn't fit."

"But I'm _a_ ghost, so it makes sense to call me Ghost,"

"No it doesn't," I reply, "You wouldn't call me "Human Female" if you needed to address me directly, would you?"

"No, I'd call you Guardian, because that's what you are. You guard and protect."

Her words hit me like a slap in the face, and I stop suddenly. She doesn't realise immediately, and floats ahead a bit before turning to see me staring at her. "What is it?" she asks, floating back over to me.

"Just..." I sigh, looking away as I think of the village we spent the night in. The empty house. "If I'm such a hero, why couldn't I protect them?"

The guilt seems to catch me off guard, filling my stomach. I don't know where it comes from or why I suddenly blame myself, but I decide not to question it too much. The Ghost, or glitch, or whatever, floats around me.

"That wasn't your fault," she tells me, "You were dead before they died. In fact, not all of them died, from what I could see. Some survived. Escaped. But you were already dead by then - there's nothing you could have done anyway, even if you were alive."

"You brought me back to life because I'm supposedly some great warrior or hero or whatever," I tell her, repeating the words she told me only a few hours ago, "But I couldn't even protect myself. Against snow, of all things. And you brought me back thinking I can save the world or something?"

"I brought you back because you're one essential piece to a much larger, much stronger thing. Without you, that larger, stronger thing becomes just that little bit weaker. Without you, it might even fall altogether."

"I'm not a hero," I tell her, "From what I gather, based on my clothing and my weapons, I was a survivor, a hunter."

"But you're perfectly suited to the Hunter class," Glitch informs me, "Please, just... I know it's a lot to take in, all of it, and you've had more time to have to absorb this than most - most Guardians are reanimated and forced straight into conflict. You have the rare luxury of absorbing this and taking it all in slowly. But please, trust me when I say that I _know_ I made the right choice. You can't see it just yet, and you might not even see it for a while yet, but you'll realise it at some point."

I look up at her, hearing the plea in her voice, before looking away again. The guilt is twisting my stomach as I think of the people in that settlement, realising that I feel responsible for them because that was where I came from. That house must have been my own home - which meant either I was the little girl who never changed her room, or...

I shake the thought away, sighing heavily before pushing on.

"You'll see - you have a purpose," Glitch tells me.

"Yeah, I get it," I sigh again, picking up my pace a little. "Hey, can you do me a favour though?"

"Depends on the favour,"

"Don't call me Guardian," I tell her, "Not until I've actually succeeded in whatever purpose this grand plan or whatever has for me."

She hums thoughtfully, then tilts forward as if nodding. "Then what would you like me to call you?"

I think for a while, falling silent, and she doesn't press me for an answer. Words flash by my mind, all of them translating into hunting, surviving, or some combination of the two.

"Astris," I reply, "Astris Eryn,"

"Alright... Astris," she stumbles over the "str" sound, but says it a few more times to get it perfected, and I smile as she repeats the full name once again. "What gave you the idea for such a name?" she asks.

"The Daughters of Artemis," I reply, "I wanted Artemis, but naming myself after a goddess seems a bit presumptuous. So I went with her daughters - Astrid and Erys."

"It suits you," Glitch tells me, "And... I suppose, if it helps, you can call me Glitch. Since your connotation of "ghost" seems not to fit my description,"

"I had already started calling you that in my mind," I chuckle, "Okay, Glitch. So, where exactly are we headed?"

We fall silent after she describes what I identify as a place called Trondheim - though I have no actual recollection of how I know this name. As we fall silent, though, the forest comes to life around us - birds chittering to each other, animals snuffing about in the undergrowth, and some exotic creatures I don't entirely recognise crying out. After a while, I can put a name to all but four sounds that we hear, sharing this information with Glitch in a low voice while she records those she isn't familiar with in her... mind? Databanks? Whatever.

Night falls eventually, and we only stop at Glitch's urging and I light a fire in a small clearing, wrapping myself in a few of the furs I stuffed into a rucksack before leaving the village. This is when I realise that I haven't eaten all day - and even at this discovery, I still don't feel hungry.

"Your body is, essentially, no longer powered by food," she explains, "You survive on Light,"

"But if I ate food, it would still digest, right?"

"Well..." she stops her flitting about for a second, clearly thinking about it. "I don't see any reason why it shouldn't. But considering it's been so long, you might have trouble digesting the food,"

"We'll wait and see," I reply, "It's too late now, anyway. Tomorrow, I'll bring a bird down and see if I can remember how to prepare it for eating."

Glitch visibly shudders at this prospect.

We start off again at first light, after another night of sleeplessness - another thing I apparently no longer need - and like the day before we make good pace. The day passes uneventfully, with only a mild snowstorm clipping us but we move away from it quickly. Once again, Glitch forces us to stop as it begins to get dark, and I once again light a fire and wrap myself in the warm furs as she tells me more about the history of things and the way life is lived now.

The journey progresses like this for another couple of days, before we walk into a clearing and encounter a snarling wolf.

Except this, according to Glitch's data, is nothing like any other wolf she's ever heard of.

The beast is at least four feet tall, with a pale grey and white coat and eyes rolling with madness. I freeze in my tracks, staring at it as it turns to me, raising its hackles to utter a low growl.

_Warning_

I stare at it, frozen to my spot as it continues to growl, and raise my hands, palms up. The growling slows, lowering as if it understands that I mean it no harm, and I glance away as it stares at me, looking back at it. Submissive. Omega. Let him feel he's dominant, and he mightn't attack.

My mistake comes when I look him in the eye. Something in me knows this is a display of aggression, but I do it anyway, my eyes meeting that dark gaze. Almost immediately, the growling rises a few pitches, and he crouches, ready to lunge.

"Astris - look out!"

"Yeah, thanks for the warning, Glitch," I snap, grabbing the knife strapped to my thigh and drawing it. She's a little too late, really, but I seem to already _know_ how to handle this creature. I bend my knees, going into a half-crouch as it paws the ground, beginning to pace back and forth. I imitate its movements, circling the small clearing, instinctively taking in every detail of its movements. The left hind leg drags more than the rest, and a patch of deep red on it's neck tells me this isn't the wolf's first fight. My grip on the knife tightens as it doubles back, pacing in the opposite direction, and I imitate the movement. Glitch hangs back, flitting nervously behind the treeline, and I catch a glimpse of her pale blue shell as she darts between the trees.

I'm almost totally distracted by Glitch when it lunges, powerful hind legs, powering it forwards in a huge leap, but my reflexes are fast. I dive into a roll, passing underneath the wolf as it flies towards the space I just vacated. I roll to my feet, and our positions are switched. I could run now, but the thing is probably more than capable of chasing me down if it wants to. No; I have to kill it, or at least severely wound it.

It lunges again, and this time I only just manage to dodge, diving to the side. I land hard, though, and it gains on me before I can roll to my feet, jaw snapping shut barely a finger length from my cheek. I bring the knife around, burying it into the beast's neck, and it howls, wrenching itself away and taking the knife with it. I roll to my feet, moving instinctively as it snarls again, enraged by my lack of want to die. It turns about, moving faster than I expected, and my body moves of its own accord, hands going to the bow strapped across my back and the arrows in the pouch, notching and drawing an arrow, firing as it lunges again, firing a second time as it yelps with the impact of the first arrow, and firing my third arrow as it begins to howl.

It collides into me, but this is more than before - this weight is not a predator trying to attack prey. This is a dead weight, and the force it hits me with is enough to not only knock me down but also knock the wind from my body. I hear Glitch crying out as the beast's body collapses on top on me, feel its warm blood dripping onto my skin, and all that seems to cross my mind at that moment is slight annoyance.

_Now I have to wash this vest!_

After a few moments, I realise the weight is what's causing my shortness of breath, and somehow, with great difficulty, manage to heave the corpse off me, rolling away from it.

"You're alive!" Glitch cries in relief, "I thought it had killed you, you weren't moving or anything and I was so worried!"

"I'm fine," I reply shakily, catching my breath before propping myself up on an elbow and looking at the beast. It isn't moving, and I can see that my final arrow went right through the eye socket, straight into the creature's brain. The other two arrows are sticking out of the chest and throat, and the knife is still embedded in the neck.

"I think we should camp here for the night," I tell Glitch, who makes a nervous sound.

"Wolves usually travel in packs,"

"I'm not dragging that body through the scrub," I reply, "They hate fire, so I'll just make sure I get a good one going."

Glitch argues for a few more minutes but I shut her down by lighting a fire. Reluctantly, she settles in to watch as I skin the wolf and cook a portion of the meat.

"This is why you didn't want to carry it about?" she asks as I grab the meat off the rock I set next to the fire, "You wanted to try eating?"

"That fur would also make a good cloak," I point out, and she sighs irritably.

"How do you even remember all of this? I've never even seen anyone move as fast as you did with that bow, not even Nightstalkers."

"I guess I grew up using it," I reply, shrugging as I look at the weapon, "I don't know. It... it was all sort of a blur. I knew it would come back around, and I needed to take it down."

"You've been in fights like that before," she realised, and I nodded slowly.

"I guess so,"

"That's good,"

"Why?" I ask suddenly, curious.

"Because if we encounter Fallen before we reach Trondheim, they'll attack much like that wolf did."


End file.
